Going All In

by Cassandra Carr

  It wouldn’t matter if he learned where she lived because she couldn’t imagine him venturing out her way again after this. And if he was going to have her fired, well, at least admitting the truth of her vision in her own home would keep the rest of the Upper East Side from overhearing.

  She’d feel safer in her own surroundings, too. Home ice advantage. She smiled and nodded. “Fine,” she said. “Get your passport. We’re going to Queens.”

  Chapter Four

  Nathalie let the Empires’ star goalie into her little rent-controlled apartment and wondered at the stupidity that had gotten her to this point. She tried to remember if she’d done the dishes this morning and was relieved when she realized she had. The floor was relatively clean, no clothes tossed about. She was actually pretty tidy out of habit. She’d had to be in the past so she didn’t risk sparking some random bit of household detritus into a full blown fire.

  She hadn’t worried about accidents like that in a long time, but the neatness habit had stayed with her. At the moment, as she led Alex into her small living room, she was grateful for that. Not that her place would live up to his, she was sure, but it was neat, it was cheap and it was all hers.

  “Make yourself at home.” She gestured to the cozy loveseat against one wall. “You want something to drink? I have coffee, tea, and I think some diet soda.”

  “Coffee would be nice but only if you’re making yourself some.”

  “So polite,” she muttered as she went into her kitchen. She glanced briefly at her altar on the way by, curious if he’d know what it was or if he’d just assume it was ordinary candles and incense. She came back out once the coffee pot was brewing. “Give it a minute.”

  He was sitting on her little couch, taking up most of the space with his big body. No wonder he could guard the net so well, she thought. Rather than try to squeeze onto the couch next to him and be uncomfortably aware of him, she sat in her rocking chair—a gift made by her dad for the winter solstice.

  They stared at each other for long moments in silence. She was in no hurry to have this conversation. If he wanted to start things, he was going to have to ask specific questions. But when he finally spoke, his comment took her completely by surprise.

  “You don’t live all that close to your subway stop.”

  She raised her brows. “Huh?”

  “You said you lived close enough that going home last night without a coat wasn’t a big deal. You must have frozen making that walk in just your dress.”

  He sounded mad. Weird. She shrugged. “I didn’t notice.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Actually, no, I’m not.” She heard the coffee machine finish percolating and said, “I’ll be right back with the coffee.”

  She pulled two mugs out of the cupboard and turned around to find Alex standing a foot away. Swallowing back her shock, she glared. “You trying to make me drop these?” She held up the cups. “Announce yourself.”

  “Sorry. Just wanted to see if you needed help.”

  “You take milk? Get it out of the fridge.”

  Shaking her head as her heart slowed from the momentary jolt of shock, she poured their coffee and tried to ignore him. He took up too much space in her small kitchen. She could practically feel his body heat even though they weren’t close enough to touch. Her awareness of him bothered her more now than it ever had before. At work, she’d been able to concentrate and ignore her attraction to him. Or at least suppress it while she unknotted his muscles. Here, in the close confines of her home, without the buffer of other eyes, she was entirely too conscious of all his masculine appeal.

  “You live here alone?” he asked.

  She nodded. “You can get a lot more space in Queens for the price.”

  “Long commute, though. All the way to Tarrytown for work.”

  “Not so bad. I’m used to it.” She handed him a mug. “I’m saving for someplace closer though,” she blurted, then pressed her lips together. He didn’t need to know that. He didn’t care. “Anyway, I like the train rides. Gives me lots of time to read.”

  She hurried back into the living room to keep herself from babbling more. Sitting in the rocking chair again, she waited for him to resume his seat. Another long moment of silence passed before he finally broke the tension and got to the point.

  “How did you know?”

  She didn’t bother prevaricating this time. “I had a vision.” Stating it simply, plainly, and without breaking eye contact, was the only way she could get this out. “Right here, actually. In the kitchen. While I was watching that last game you guys played against Montreal.”

  “A vision?”

  She heard the expected disbelief, and though she was prepared for it, it still hurt. “A vision.”

  “Of what?”

  “You getting shot in the chest. The man had you at gunpoint in a place I didn’t recognize—though I’m sure it was somewhere in New York.”

  “How do you know?”

  She shrugged. “Just do.”

  “What else?”

  “Not much more to it than that.” She gulped a scalding mouthful of coffee and let the heat settle her nerves. “The man said he was tired of pussyfooting around with you. And then he shot you.”

  “In the chest? Not the leg or knee?”

  “The chest. And then you were dead, and I was back to watching you defend the net.”

  He leaned against the couch and watched her. She watched him back.

  “You have these…visions a lot?”

  “Told you you wouldn’t believe me. Not a lot. But sometimes.”

  “They come true?”

  She nodded over her mug. The heady scent of strong, rich roast gave her something to focus on so she wouldn’t have to feel the sting of his disbelief too sharply.

  “Then why warn me?”

  Tilting her head to one side, she let out a long sigh. “My grandmother made me.”

  Her response must have surprised him because he spit out a mouthful of coffee. The reaction made her laugh in a nervous burst.

  “Sorry,” he said. He set his mug down and went into the kitchen, returning with a handful of paper towels.

  “You can leave that. I’ll get it later.” But he was already mopping up the slight mess off her wood floor.

  “Your grandmother knows you have visions.”

  “My grandmother knows everything about me.”

  “There’s more than visions?”

  Yes. But he didn’t need to know that part. “Yaya helped my dad raise me, so she’s like a second mother. And she didn’t actually tell me to go warn you. But she would have if she’d been there.” Her grandmother and father were responsible for her moral compass. They might as well have waved the invitation to Vegas Night in her face after she’d seen Alex getting killed.

  “What happened to your mother?”

  Not exactly the question she’d been expecting next. “She left when I was four. Remarried an evangelical preacher, somewhere in Texas I think.”

  “Sorry.”

  She shrugged. “Long time ago.” Not long enough to heal the pain of that abandonment. But again, he didn’t need to know. She wasn’t even sure why she’d told him about her mother. Except that she found she liked telling him the truth. For a brief moment, she could pretend he’d accept her as she was, and she’d be able to be honest with him about everything. The fantasy was short lived but pleasant while it lasted.

  He settled back onto the couch and leaned forward so his forearms rested against his knees. “I don’t really believe in visions.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s why you were afraid to tell me, afraid I’d tell your boss you were delusional?”

  “I’m not.”

  “But you’re afraid that’s what I think?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  He shook his head. “I think you’re too sharp and together to be delusional.”

  “You think I’m together?” She frowned. No one had ever cal
led her sharp and together. His assessment felt like a compliment, especially given what she’d just told him, and that made her want to blush more than if he’d told her she was pretty.

  “You’ve always seemed like a together, grounded kind of woman to me. I like that about you.”

  “Or you did until I told you I had visions?”

  “No. I still like you. I’m just not sure what to think about the visions.”

  “Listen, you don’t have to believe me. It doesn’t matter to my existence if you do or don’t. So long as you don’t have me fired and you try to keep from getting killed, I’ll consider this a win.”

  “It would help if you could tell me where you saw this man shoot me. I’d just never go there.”

  She snorted. “That would be handy. But I didn’t know the location. I’ve never been there before.”

  “Would you recognize the area again if you saw it?”

  “Sure.” She shrugged. “But I’m not sure how that will help. I don’t exactly have time to go scouring the city.” She sucked her lips into her mouth for a moment, then let out a slow breath. “It was still pretty cold outside in the vision, so I think this confrontation will happen soon. Before the playoffs.”

  “This year? You’re sure you weren’t seeing something from years in the future?”

  “Too much urgency. Sooner rather than later.” She rocked gently in the chair as she let her mind wander back through the images of the vision. “Soon,” she said more firmly. “I’m not positive how long, but this is something that will happen in the next few weeks. A month at most, if you can’t avoid it.” She looked right at him and said, “But I’d prefer if you avoided it.”

  “Me, too.”

  He smiled that slow, dangerous grin, and she sucked in a sharp breath. Damn the man was hot. And he probably thinks you’re crazy now, she reminded herself. Except that he’d said he liked her. A treacherous little part of her heart leapt with joy at that small bit of hope.

  False hope, she knew. She couldn’t tell him everything, and any less than everything was nothing. He was who he was, she was who she was, and there was no way to breach the chasm that lay between them. Not that he’d want to. But the death of her illusions on that score was a hard one to take. She wasn’t delusional about her visions, but she sure had harbored some illusions about her relationship with him. And she was just starting to realize how much she’d wanted more with him, even though she’d known it was impossible.

  She’d been happier living with her fantasies. This reality sucked.

  Chapter Five

  Alex studied the woman rocking gently in her beautiful wooden rocking chair and considered that maybe she really was crazy. Which would be a damned shame because he found himself drawn to her more and more the longer they were in each other’s company. He’d been telling her the truth. He’d always liked her. Seeing her outside of her work had given him more complicated ideas of what he wanted from her, too.

  She was sexy as all hell, and he was pretty sure she didn’t realize it. That curvy body of hers was usually hidden in her ugly work clothes, and her long dark hair was normally secured in a tight bun. Wearing simple jeans and a cashmere sweater and with her hair down, she looked soft and touchable. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, provocative and teasing. Like she knew things other people didn’t.

  Well, she seemed to think she did, he realized. She honestly believed she had visions. He could see that plain enough. She believed what she was saying, every damned word, and he hated it because he didn’t want to think of her as crazy. She’d always seemed so grounded, so down to earth, so steady. He liked that about her. The flighty puck bunnies who surrounded him most of the time drove him nuts. Sure, they were gorgeous, and he wasn’t opposed to fucking them when he needed sex. But he couldn’t abide conversations with them.

  Nathalie, on the other hand, was always such a pleasure to talk to.

  Because she knew when not to talk, he realized. She didn’t just ramble on about nonsense. She was straightforward, blunt even. But controlled and careful about what she said, all at the same time.

  She reminded him of his parents that way. Quiet and dignified.

  There was a seriousness to her that gave her a kind of confidence he found extremely sexy. Her confidence came from somewhere deep, not a superficial arrogance because she was pretty.

  Though, she was more than pretty. He could easily imagine stripping off that soft sweater and her snug jeans and laying her out on this too-small couch while he savored every inch of her pale skin. The fantasy was vivid enough, he actually had to force his mind back to the present. Since concentration and focus weren’t usually a problem, the power she had over him was worrying.

  “Like I said, you don’t have to believe me,” she said into the quiet, startling him out of his thoughts.

  He considered her dark, steady eyes. “I’m a pragmatic man, Nathalie. Whether I believe in visions or not, I’d prefer not to get killed. Which means it makes sense to take a few precautions.”

  “Someone is threatening you, aren’t they?”

  He straightened from his position leaning over his knees and decided to return some of her trust. He still wasn’t sure what to believe about all this. But if she was lying to him, she was an Oscar-worthy actress, and he just didn’t think that was the case. He’d always prided himself on his ability to read people, to read their body language. It was one of the things that made him so good at his job. And while Nathalie’s story was extremely farfetched, he was sure she wasn’t involved with Johnson now. He would have been able to tell if she was lying. He might not believe in visions. But Nathalie did.

  She was trusting him not to tell her boss about this belief of hers. He owed her something in return. “A man from my past, a guy I grew up with, Ben Johnson. I guess you could say he’s fallen on hard times. He’s a gambler and he’s gotten himself into some trouble. He seems to think I can get him out of it.”

  “How? By paying off his debts for him?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “He’s a gambler, you said?” She paused. Then, “He wants you to end your streak, doesn’t he? Wants you to throw a game so he can bet against the Empires and win big.”

  “You’re very quick.”

  “I know. So I take it you’ve refused his request.”

  He smiled at her “I know”, then confirmed her assessment of the situation.

  “Have you gone to the police?”

  “I talked very quietly with a friend on the force. Unfortunately, this guy hasn’t done anything blatantly criminal. Yet. That I can prove. He’s just tried to coerce me into helping him.” He shrugged.

  “Coerced how? Has he threatened you?”

  “He tried. Clumsy effort. I don’t have anything he can threaten me with. Not to gain my cooperation.”

  She frowned, so he clarified.

  “I don’t have any family, no wife or children. No serious girlfriend. My parents passed away years ago. I don’t have any other relatives. I don’t have any debts he can use against me. He knows a lot about my past since we grew up together, but there’s nothing there that he can use to blackmail me. And I always hated this guy. He was a bully. I would never throw a game as a favor to him.”

  Alex watched her carefully when he made of point the fact that he was single, but she didn’t react in any special way to that part of his story. He knew she was single. He’d quietly checked up on her before returning her coat. But if she was interested in him, she wasn’t letting on.

  “He was a bully? Is he still?”

  “Men like him don’t change. I wasn’t really worried about it before this, though. As I said, I don’t have anything he can use against me. And I’m not the sort of man he can push around anymore.”

  “But you said he was desperate. You weren’t worried about him hurting you physically?”

  He shrugged. “His type aren’t usually brave enough to do something like that. But I figured if he really did get desperate enough,
he might try to break my leg or knee, something that would keep me benched for the rest of the season. Maybe worse if he’s pissed enough at me. I never considered murder as something he’d risk.”

  “You make it sound like his trying to break your leg would be no big deal, like you don’t really care if he hurts you.”

  “I don’t want my season to end yet. And I’d hate to be so seriously hurt my career ended already. But I have plans beyond hockey. I’d just get on with things.”

  Her frown deepened. “That sounds…” She snorted a half-laugh. “Very pragmatic.”

  “Told you so.”

  She laughed then, a full-throated laugh. And the sound went right to his dick. Her voice was husky and rich, calling to mind dark rooms and tangled sheets. Once again he found his concentration and focus scattered as thoughts of stripping her naked and fucking her on her little couch overwhelmed him.

  He had no idea how she did this to him. He wasn’t sure he liked that she could. But damned if he wasn’t going to seduce her. Soon.

  Because if her vision did come true, he was a dead man. And he could imagine a lot worse ways to spend his last few weeks alive than taking Nathalie Mendez to bed.

  Chapter Six

  “I have an idea.”

  Never had four little words filled Nathalie with such dread. “Yes?” She stilled her rocking and, after a beat, realized she was holding her breath waiting for his “idea”.

  “You know what this place looks like, where I’m supposed to get shot?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “It’s very possible this is somewhere I go regularly, or it’s at least located somewhere along my usual daily route.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “During the season, I don’t go to a lot of unusual places in the city. I’m too busy.”

  She shrugged. “Fair enough. So?”

  “So you spend some time with me during my routine. When you see the location, let me know, and I’ll just avoid that spot.”